Chapter Text
Robin, Wally, Artemis, Kaldur, M’gann and Connor were in the common area of Mt Justice. Robin was sharing news about Sam Wilson, Deathstroke’s son.
“Apparently, he just disappeared a few nights ago.”
“Disappeared?” Artemis asked, raising an eyebrow.
Robin leans back on the couch. “Yeah. I’m guessing he ran away. Wouldn’t blame him. If I had Deathstroke as a dad, I’d definitely leave.” He shrugged.
“I wonder what happened to him…” M’gann said in concern.
“Heard the League’s looking into it. They’re trying to find him before someone else does, or he gets hurt.”
“Poor guy…”
“I just hope he’s alright. Spending so long under Deathstroke’s manipulation… it must’ve been hard.” Kaldur shook his head, his arms crossed.
The computer interrupted the team’s conversation.
“Recognised: Red Tornado, 16
Striker, B-08”, it announced.
The group looks up and watch as Red Tornado approached, a figure behind him.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about Striker. I am here to report he has been found, and he will be joining your team as an official member,” he explained, his robotic voice monotone as usual.
Striker stepped into the light. He was tall, with pale skin, cold blue eyes, short white hair and a scar across his nose. He wore a black armoured full body suit with black and white lined armour pads on his chest, arms and legs, black boots, with a utility belt filled with weapons and other essentials on his waist. A black bandanna hid the lower half of his face, and his knuckles were wrapped tightly in bandages. His expression was stoic, almost emotionless.
The team had various reactions to him. Wally and M’gann looked excited, while Robin and Connor were suspicious. Kaldur was as calm as ever, but Artemis had a knowing look on her face.
“Striker has no experience working as part of a team,” Red Tornado added. “So I expect you will all treat him with patience.” With that, he walked away, leaving Striker with the team.
M’gann is the first to stand, with the rest of the team following suit as they walk over to Striker.
“So, you’re the one who escaped Deathstroke, huh?” Artemis remarked, her head tilted to one side.
Striker simply nodded.
“Someone’s quiet,” Wally teased.
“Leave him be, Wally. He’s probably not used to being around so many people,” Kaldur warned. Wally raised his hands in mock surrender.
M’gann shook her head, looking at Striker. “Sorry about them. I’m Miss Martian, or M’gann. Though my Earth name is Megan. That's Wally, Robin, Connor, Artemis, and Kaldur." She gestured to each member with her hand.
Kaldur stepped closer. "We're all looking forward to getting to know you more. Welcome to the team." He placed his hand on Striker’s shoulder. However, he felt him tense slightly, as if suppressing a flinch. He slowly removed his hand. That was… concerning.
Striker didn’t acknowledge it, however, and simply gave another nod. “Thanks.”
Wally perked up. “He said his first word!”
Artemis rolled her eyes. M'gann took no notice and simply beamed.
"Cmon, I'll show you your room," she said.
"I'll come too!" Wally chimed in.
The three wandered off, leaving Artemis, Kaldur, Robin and Connor alone.
"... You saw that, right? Did he.. flinch?" Artemis looked at Kaldur with a raised eyebrow. Kaldur nodded.
"I felt it. He's very quiet, too. Whatever his father put him through... It must have been tough."
"Or it could be an act," Robin added. "Slade's known for being manipulative. For all we know, he could still be working for him and using his skills to manipulate us."
Kaldur turned to Robin. "It's a very slim possibility. We should treat him with respect instead of caution."
“Yeah, yeah. I’m still running a background check on him.”
As much as Kaldur wanted to protest, he knew Robin wouldn’t change his mind. He watched as he left with a sigh.
Connor, who had been quiet since Striker entered, scoffed. "I don't trust him. He's probably a carbon copy of Deathstroke."
"Don't be like that." Artemis shot a look at Connor. Connor rolled his eyes and walked away. Artemis turned to Kaldur, who simply shook his head.
Meanwhile, the trio finish the tour by making their way to the bedrooms.
"It used to be only Connor and I who live in Mount Justice, but now we have you too!" M'gann said, a spring in her step. "I'm sure your stuff's been dropped off already. You'll just have to unpack."
"Just make sure it doesn't get too messy. Red Tornado hates messes," Wally warned, shooting Sam a smirk. "Though I'd imagine you won't have to worry about that. You seem like a neat guy."
They stop outside a door labeled "Sam".
M'gann looks at Striker: ".. Your name's Sam, right? I mean, you've only really been introduced as Striker. I just want to double check."
Striker, or Sam, nodded. M’gann nodded back and opened the door. The room was simple enough, with grey walls, a wardrobe, chest of drawers, desk, and a bed in the middle, a bedside table beside it. Three boxes lay beside his desk, each labelled with their contents: Clothes, Weapons, and ingredients and equipment. Wally looked at the third box, raising an eyebrow.
“Ingredients? Do you.. bake, or something?” He asked.
Sam shook his head as he walked over. “For poisons and antidotes. I coat my daggers in poison to be more efficient in battle.”
Wally and M’gann look surprised. Wally zipped over. “Poisons? That’s badass. What can they do?”
“Different poisons have different effects,” Sam explained as he knelt down, opening the box. “They vary in lethality. My main poisons knock people out, or temporarily paralyse them. The ones I use for last resort can kill.”
“Wow… and you make antidotes, too?” M’gann asked.
Sam nodded. “Just in case.”
“Handy,” Wally remarked.
“Well, we’ll leave you settle in. If you need anything, feel free to ask,” M’gann said gently.
Sam nodded, and the two left.
As they walked down the hallway, Wally looked at M’gann. “Y’know, for an ex-assassin, he’s got a pretty normal name. I mean, I was expecting something tough, but Sam? Seems like Slade just went for the easy option.”
“Oh leave him be. I think it’s a nice name.” She nudged him with her elbow. Wally simply chuckled.
Sam sorted through his boxes. His clothes were simple enough, long sleeves shirts, a couple pairs of cargo pants and sweatpants, and boots, all in shades of greys, whites, blacks and brown. He decided to pause and change out of his hero suit, and into a black, long sleeve shirt, white sweatpants and brown boots. His bandana was left on his desk. As he sorted his weapons and equipment, he spotted a fourth box behind the pile, with a note on it. He picked up the note and read it.
I picked up some extras for you. I hope they benefit you.
The journal was Black Canary’s idea.
-Red Tornado
Sam opened the box, curious to see what was inside. Some rolls of bandages, a first aid kit, a Wayne Tech laptop and a black leather covered journal with a pen. He placed the laptop on the desk, while the bandages and first aid kit went into the drawer of his bedside table. He held the journal in his hands for a moment. What would he do with this? There was no way he’d write anything personal in it. Anyone could find it and use the contents against him. It was a stupid idea, writing about your weakness in a book. Especially one with no lock. He placed it in a drawer, shutting it with little regard. Satisfied, Sam stepped back, taking in the room. The room was a lot bigger than his old one, and the radiators on the walls made it a lot cozier too. He walked over to the bed, pressing his hand down on it. It felt soft, different to the stiff mattresses he was used to. Even the quilt felt thick and comfy.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He walked over and opened it to see Connor glaring down at him. “I don’t know what your story is, but I don’t trust you. The only reason I’m tolerating you is because M’gann seems to trust you.” His voice lowered. “But if you break her trust… I’ll break you.”
Sam just… stared back, his expression as stoic as ever. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. Though I know you don’t believe me. So I’ll make one thing clear: I give respect when I get it. If I get none from you, don’t expect any in return.”
With that, Sam shuts the door. Connor huffs, and walks off.
A few hours later, Kaldur had some questions of his own. He found Red Tornado in his quarters.
“And if I may ask, who has taken custody of Striker?” Kaldur asked, his arms crossed.
Red Tornado kept his gaze on the screens in front of him. “I have,” he simply responded.
“You?” Kaldur looked surprised. “No offence, but I didn’t think you would ever… adopt someone.”
“I was the one who found Striker. Out of all the other members, he trusts me the most. Of course, this trust is still little, though he didn’t protest when I informed him. As well as this, since we both live here now, I’d like to be the one keeping an eye on him,” Red Tornado explains.
Kaldur nodded. “That makes sense. Though, I also need to know… During the introductions, Striker… flinched, when I placed my hand on his shoulder. By any chance do you know what Slade put him through?”
Red Tornado shook his head. “Striker is adamant to keep his experiences to himself. However, knowing Slade’s history, I can presume it was brutal. Striker’s mental state is…” Red Tornado hesitated for what Kaldur felt was the first time. “.. it is not good, to say the least. I will not go into detail, for privacy’s sake. It is clear Striker views any and all vulnerabilities as a liability. It will be hard to see any of such from him. Though, I believe you and the others will be able to show him the error of his ways. However, as I stated earlier, he will need patience. His mindset is no doubt from lessons ingrained for years by his father. It will be difficult for him to accept any different.” He turned to look at Kaldur.
“I have set him up with one on one meetings with Black Canary, and I will be checking in on him too. I believe that this is a group effort. Even if some of the members are… sceptical.”
Kaldur nodded, remembering Robin and Connor’s initial reactions. “I’m sure everyone will eventually warm up to him. I believe we will be able to help him. I.. I especially would like to try.”
Red Tornado gave a nod of approval. “Very good. Now go home. It is getting late.”
“Very well. Thank you.” Kaldur turned and left Red Tornado’s room, shutting the door behind him. As he walked, his mind wandered as he thought about Striker. To be the son of a legendary mercenary, yet abandon his path of bloodshed and violence to become a hero.. it took a large amount of strength. Even if he still believed many of Slade’s ideals, it was clear he had the determination to change. Helping him forget his old ways would be hard, but Kaldur knew it wouldn’t be impossible. He wanted to help Striker- no.
He wanted to help Sam. He wanted to break down his walls, and see the real him. No one as young as him should be so… emotionless. He wanted to see Sam happy, to see him smile and laugh.
… Why did the thought of Sam smiling make his chest feel warm?